Chapter 837
The interrogation room smelled of bleach and fear.
Simon Stone sat handcuffed to the table. He was a small man, balding, sweating through his expensive suit. He had survived Bianca’s torture only to fall into Lucian’s hands.
Lucian didn’t sit. He stood by the door, holding a pitcher of ice water.
“Lawyer,” Simon croaked. “I want my—”
Lucian walked over and poured the ice water over Simon’s head.
Simon sputtered, gasping. “Are you insane? This is police brutality!”
Q𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗂𝘁𝗒 𝗍𝘳𝖺ոѕ𝗅𝗮𝘁𝗶o𝘯ѕ оn g𝘢𝗹𝘯𝗼𝗏𝖾l𝗌.𝘤𝗈𝗺
“I’m not the police,” Lucian said calmly. “And the cameras are off.”
He placed a tablet on the table.
“This is your bank account in the Caymans,” Lucian said. “Or rather, what’s left of it.”
Simon stared at the screen.
Balance: $0.00.
“What did you do?” Simon shrieked.
“Skye Thorne is very good with numbers,” Lucian said. “She donated it to a charity for orphaned kittens. Very touching.”
“That was my retirement!”
“You won’t need money where you’re going,” Lucian said.
He threw a stack of photos on the table.
“Human trafficking. Arms dealing. And funding the Blue Phoenix’s operations.”
Simon slumped. “It wasn’t me. I was just the money guy.”
“Who was the Phoenix?” Lucian asked. “Was it Bianca?”
Simon froze. “Bianca was a distraction. A face to put on the—”
Lucian leaned in. “Then who is the real threat?”
“He never showed his face,” Simon whispered. “But he knew everything. He knew about the hotel, the jamming… he even knew about Liam Kensington coming to save her.”
“How?”
“Because he said he has eyes everywhere. Even in your own house.”
Meanwhile, at the hospital.
I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to Liam’s bed. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was hypnotic.
He looked younger when he was sleeping. The lines of cruelty and stress that usually defined his face were smoothed out. It was hard to reconcile this man with the one who had made my life a living hell for years.
But people change. Or maybe they just break enough to let the light in.
The door opened. Alistair walked in, carrying two coffees.
“You should go home, Skye,” he said gently. “You haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.”
“I can’t,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Every time I close them, I see him jumping in front of that gun.”
Alistair set the coffee down. “He’s stable. The doctors said he’s tough.”
“He is,” I said.
Alistair looked at Liam. There was no hate in his eyes. Just exhaustion.
“We owe him,” Alistair admitted, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “I hate it, but we do.”
A groan came from the bed.
We both turned.
Liam’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked, adjusting to the light. His gaze landed on me.
“Skye?” His voice was a rasp.
I leaned forward. “I’m here.”
He tried to smile, but winced. “You’re okay? Bianca didn’t…”
“I’m fine,” I said softly. “Because of you.”
He let out a breath. “Good. That’s… good.”
He looked at Alistair. There was no hate in his eyes. Just exhaustion.
“Thorne,” Liam nodded weakly.
Alistair didn’t nod back, but his posture softened slightly.
“You have a hell of a way of crashing a party, Kensington,” Alistair said.
Liam looked at the ceiling. “Someone had to make sure you didn’t blow the place up with Skye inside.”
I felt a lump in my throat. This wasn’t the arrogant tyrant I knew. This was a man broken by regret, trying to piece himself back together with shrapnel.